


7th inning stretch

by overcastskeleton



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastskeleton/pseuds/overcastskeleton
Summary: It's never too late to start a new tradition
Relationships: Frank Castle/Reader, Frank Castle/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	7th inning stretch

**Author's Note:**

> Whoop whoop! First fic I'm writing for Frank, which is unbelievable since I've literally been in love with for like 4 years.   
> Hope you all enjoy!

It’s game day. 

Baseball was America’s pastime, and a Yankees game was akin to Sunday mornings at church for Frank. Every time the Pinstripes played he was on the couch in front of the TV, nursing a beer without fail. You tried to match his enthusiasm, the way he’d stare at the screen with rapt attention, eyes darting to follow the players’ every move, but you just couldn’t. Frank might have followed the sport with a pseudo religious zeal, but try as you might it didn’t appeal to you. 

That didn’t stop you from sitting next to him though, your feet in his lap as he watched the games. He’d rub your legs, going on and on about player stats and rules, answering every question you lobbed his way with patience. Frank was just happy you’d spend time with him. And you loved the way his face lit up when you showed interest, the way he grinned or cheered when something good happened. You liked to see him happy. 

You’re on the couch in your usual position, legs thrown over his lap as you watch him watch the game. It’s the bottom of the sixth inning and the Yankees are up 7-1 against the Astros. Frank’s on his third beer and feeling good, shooting smiles at you every few minutes. His fingers trail up and down your thigh, coming right to the bottom of the small shorts you wear before travelling back down to your knee. 

Frank does it subconsciously, never one to stop moving for long. If he notices the way you shift, slightly squeezing your thighs together when his fingertips graze the skin underneath your shorts, he doesn’t give it away. Most days you’d find this little tick comforting, today it sends shivers down your spine. 

You don’t know what about Frank today has gotten you so turned on. Maybe it’s the way he looks completely relaxed leaning back against the cushions with legs spread. Or how he sips from the beer bottle, lips wrapping around the glass tip, his tongue swiping at the stray drops. Whatever it is, the skate of his fingers along your thighs only heightens the desire you feel for him. 

You’re shit out of luck though, the game won’t be over for at least another hour. You sigh, biting your bottom lip as you sink further into the couch. 

Frank rolls his head towards you, eyebrows furrowing. “You alright, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah.” You bite your bottom lip. “Peachy.” 

His brown eyes dance as they run over your body. “Yeah? Enjoying the view?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not staring.” 

“Yeah you are.” Frank grins, pressing the bottle back to his lips. His jaw flexes, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and you bite your bottom lip. “You’re a shit liar, you know that, baby?” 

You huff, looking towards the TV and Frank chuckles, patting your thigh. The Yankees pitcher throws a slider and the player swings and misses. The inning ends with a cheer, the Yankees still up 7-2. 

Frank claps loudly. “That’s what I’m talking about!” He finishes off his beer and kisses the inside of your knee. “Gonna make a sandwich. You want anything?” 

“If I said ‘you,’ would that be too cliche?” You respond cheekily, grazing your foot over his crotch. 

Frank raises his eyebrows. “Little bit, yeah.” He gestures you over to him with a nod. 

You push yourself up on your elbows and crawl into his lap. He grins up at you, placing his hands on your thighs. “Cliches aren’t always bad though.” You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. “Besides, it’s true.”

He tilts his head to the side, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “That right?” Frank brushes his lips over your throat.

You sigh, melting into his body. “ _ Yeah _ .” You cup his face and pull him in for a bruising kiss.

His lips are soft, moving against yours in a slow dance. Everything about him is languid. The kisses bleed together like sap. He takes his time, slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you and the faint notes of beer burst on your taste buds as you open yourself up to him. His hands are gentle as they roam your body, rucking up your shirt to touch the skin below and you arch into his calloused palm. 

You moan into his mouth, grinding down against the cool metal of his belt buckle. Your breath comes out in a heady whimper, legs spreading to press every inch of your body to his. You tangle your finger in the hair atop his head, pulling on the short strands and he grunts into your mouth, nipping your bottom lip. 

Frank wraps his arms around your waist, fingers breaching the waistband of your shorts to squeeze your ass. He pulls you impossibly closer to him, large hands guiding your movements. Your hands fall to his shoulders, curling into the fabric of the grey henley he wears, and Frank pulls away with a nip to your bottom lip. 

“Game’s still on,” he reminds you when you whine, but it’s half-hearted. 

“C’mon baby.” You lean back, pulling your shirt over your head. “You know the Yankees are gonna win anyways.” You rock your hips into the growing bulge in his jeans. “And I’m much more interesting.” 

He looks you up and down, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You sure are.” Frank cups your breasts, running his thumbs over your pert nipples. He leans forward, mouthing at the base of your neck.

“ _ Frank _ .” You reach for his shirt again and this time he lets you pull it over his shoulder. You run your fingers over his chest, past the many scars that cover his torso and follow the sculpted muscle down to his belt buckle. You fumble to undo it, eventually pulling the leather through the loops and popping the button of his jeans. 

You stare at each other for a moment, chests heaving as you take the other in. Frank fixes you with a smirk, placing his hands behind his head and looking up at you expectantly. He’s letting you set the terms, waiting for you to make the first move. You press your lips together with determination, lifting off of him so you can pull at his jeans. He lets you push them down, kicking them off his ankles until they pool on the floor. 

“Touch me,” you say. 

“Where?” 

You grab one of his hands and move it between your thighs. “Here.” 

Frank rubs at your clothed mound. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” 

“So undress me,” you challenge with a smirk. 

A slow grin spreads over his lips. Frank curls his hands in the waistband of your shorts and pulls you towards him. You fall against his chest, elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. He turns to press a kiss to your arm, letting the elastic snap back on your hips. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” you groan, rolling your hips into his palm. The friction makes heat pool in your core, and your panties dampen, uncomfortably sticking to your cunt. You just want them off and him inside of you. “Today, Frank,” you huff impatiently. 

He laughs, his breath hitting your breast, and swirls his tongue around your nipple. “Yeah, yeah.” He helps you out of the shorts and panties. You now sit in front of him, naked as the day you were born. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart.” Frank says softly, rubbing your hip.

You kiss his nose, a soft smile on his face. “You gonna fuck me, handsome?” You ask, pulling his hard cock from the confines of his boxers. 

Frank nods, tilting his head back as you stroke him slowly. His thumb circles your clit slowly, the gentle pressure sending fire through your body and you shudder. He slides his fingers between your folds, collecting your wetness on his digits. 

“Ready for me?” 

It’s an unnecessary question. The answer lies in the slick coating his thick fingers, in the way you shiver and moan above him as he teases the entrance of your wanting cunt with his fingertips. It’s an undeniably resounding  _ yes _ . 

“Yes,” you whine, flicking your wrist in a way that leaves Frank breathless. “Fuck me.” 

He pushes your hand away from him and rubs his slicked fingers over his cock. You move so that you’re hovering over him, leaning your forehead on his. Frank rocks his hips upwards, and you both groan when his tip brushes your entrance. You take charge before he can tease you again, and sink down onto his length slowly. Your bottom lip stays trapped between your teeth, nails digging into the back of his neck as his cock drags along your walls.

“Goddamn, honey.” Frank grunts, squeezing your hips as you rest, now fully seated on top of him. 

You nod, eyebrows furrowed as you adjust to the tantalizing burn as he stretches you open. He kisses your forehead, kneading his fingers into your lower back to ease the tension out of your body. You let out a sigh, grinding your hips slowly as the ache abates. Frank encourages you with soft touches and fleeting kisses. He lifts his hips into yours and you fall forward, a choked moan of his name tumbling off your lips as he brushes a glorious spot inside of you.

You lean back, balancing your hands on his knees as you roll your hips forward. Frank watches you, something reverent glinting in those wide eyes of his. You’re absolutely hypnotic, your whole body moving with the grace of a cresting wave. You don’t feel graceful though, you’re hungry, angling your hips in search of that dizzying sensation once again. Frank plants his feet flat on the ground and thrusts to meet you, determined to help you find it. 

The two of you move in tandem, one fluid motion driven by lust and the desire to lose yourself in each other. Frank wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest as he fucks up into you. His grunts fill your ear, twining with your breathless cries as they swirl around the room in carnal cacophony.

Your hand snakes between your joined bodies to rub at your clit. You clench around Frank and he groans, snapping his hips into yours sharply. Stars burst behind your eyelids and your head swims with pleasure. 

“There,” you all but sob. “ _ Fuck _ .” 

“There?” Frank mumbles against your jaw. 

You nod, hips moving frantically as you skate the edges of your orgasm. 

Frank zeroes in on that spot, hitting it with a devastating precision. Your body goes limp, mouth falling open in a silent cry. You’re not gonna last much longer, not when he’s fucking you so good, wrenching cries from your throat that you’re sure your neighbors can hear. 

“C’mon,” Frank grunts, nipping at your pulse. 

You focus on the slide of his skin on yours, the way his cock moves deep inside you, so deep you feel him all over. Let the broken noises he makes and the sloppy pressure of your fingers on your clit send you over the edge. 

And when you fall, you fall hard. It’s over with a whimper, your body goes rigid, legs trembling as your orgasm washes over you. It’s pure bliss, this sensation that overcomes you, threatens to tear you apart. You lean into it, letting it take you higher and higher. You cling to Frank, and he fucks you through it until you’re a blubbering mess.

“Attagirl,” Frank praises, burying his face into your chest. “ _ Shit _ .” His hips stutter, rhythm growing more erratic, and he holds you tighter as the ball in his stomach threatens to unravel. “Gonna--” 

“Give it to me, baby.” You card your fingers through your hair. “Want it so bad.” 

“Fucking filthy, sweetheart. You know that?” 

“Only for you.” You spread your legs wider, taking him as deep as he can go. 

Frank groans, hips meeting yours desperately a couple times before he comes with a strangled sigh of your name. He holds you to him, nose buried into your neck, just breathing you in as his breathing returns to normal. 

“Better than baseball?” You tease, running your fingers over his shoulders. 

Frank chuckles, tapping your ass. “Yeah, way better than baseball.” He kisses your chin. 

You look at the TV over your shoulder. “One more inning left to go.” 

“Doesn’t matter. Yankees are gonna win anyways,” he parrots your words back to you, nosing over your pulse. “Astros are shit.” He continues pressing soft kisses against your body. 

“Gave a new meaning to the 7th inning stretch, huh?” 

Frank scoffs and you feel his smile against your collarbone. “Yeah, yeah we did.” 

You guess it’s never too late to start a new tradition.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my tumblr for more: bobaandthefetts


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